


Remember That Night

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Banter, Best Friends, Concerts, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, M/M, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 12:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18604729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: “Cas, you’re forgetting I straight-up won these tickets: My luck is at an all-time high tonight. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found a golden ticket between my sandwich bun.”“Anything?” Cas repeats.“Anything,” Dean confirms. “Now, I suggest you eat beforehand too. Unless you can make some gnarly stomach growls because we’ve got a hot date with the stage tonight.”





	Remember That Night

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily based on my last experience at a concert a couple weeks ago. Other-worldly. I hope everyone gets to experience it too. (And even have a little romance too!) <3

Remember That Night

_It felt so right, just you and I  
Like this is something out of a dream…_

“We do whatever we need to, you hear me? I mean _anything.”_

“Dean, it’s a concert, not The Hunger Games.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my poor sheltered friend,” Dean replies as he hands the big, unimpressed burly security guard his ID. “It’s Colt Killers—arguably the greatest band of our generation. They opened for Greta Van Fleet last summer.”

“First of all, I’ve had more orgies than you’ll ever have in your life,” Cas replies as another burly security man pats him down. Cas proceeds forward as he’s told, but doesn’t hesitate glancing back with flirty eyebrows.

“You’ve had _one_ orgy,” Dean says.

“My point. Secondly, whatever you wanna call it, it’s still a concert. By morning, we’ll wake up in our beds a little deafer and a little less knowledgeable about what happened the night before.”

“Cas, buddy, don’t worry: I hear your plea for help on having fun and I will tend to it... right after I get one of those pork sliders.”

“Dean, I get it,” Cas says, removing his friend’s mock-comforting hand from his shoulder. “I do. Angel Radio is a kick-ass band too...”

“I’ll still never understand how one can be agnostic and a fan of Christian rock, but continue.”

“I just don’t want you to give your hopes up,” he continues. “They may not even want to bring anyone up with them.”

“Cas, you’re forgetting I straight-up won these tickets: My luck is at an all-time high tonight. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found a golden ticket between my sandwich bun.”

“Anything?” Cas repeats.

“Anything,” Dean confirms. “Now, I suggest you eat beforehand too. Unless you can make some gnarly stomach growls because we’ve got a hot date with the stage tonight.”

“Dean, it’s not ‘95. You can drop ‘gnarly’.”

“I was barely alive in ‘95. I’m catching up on lost time.” The smell of weed wafts through the open doors leading to the stage. It must hit Dean at the same time, because he’s grinning like Willie Nelson busting a high school parking lot drug deal. “Looks like the nineties are alive and well.”

“Great,” Cas mumbles, begrudgingly following after his friend. “Just great.”

 

 

“What song is this?”

“What!?”

“What song is this!?”

“Then go pee if you have to!” Dean yell-replies. “Oh, oh! ‘Ashes of the Phoenix’!”

This is the part where Cas normally rolls his eyes, but honestly? In spite of his best friend’s one track mind (that’s fewer digits than his 8-tracks), he’s having a really good time. It’s been a long time since he’s been to a concert. Like… fifteen years ago long time. That was when his dad took him—and by taken he means I-didn’t-have-a-babysitter-that-night—to Dave Matthews.

He’s not opposed to music. He just hasn’t found an artist that connects him so strongly to music. That’s something he’s always envied about Dean. Sure, Dean relates to his girlfriends’ fathers better than his girlfriends, but Zeppelin, AC/DC, REO Speedwagon… these bands fill him with so much joy. Once, Dean’s on again off again girlfriend Cassie texted to make it abundantly clear she was home alone for the next few hours and Dean, in the middle of a slow-moving line for Robert Plant’s meet and greet at their local record store, _turned her down._

(Needless to say, they were permanently _off_ after that.)

Dean’s always had a personal connection to music. He even made Cas a Top 13 Zeppelin mixtape with “only the best tracks, even though that’s basically all of them”, according to Dean, in an attempt to turn Cas onto the music. Of course he appreciated the sentiment, because he left it in his Lincoln’s cassette player long enough for the film to somehow start unraveling, but Cas was always too preoccupied with sex and exploring his sexuality, which … if he’s being honest… feels good in the moment, but leaves him feeling empty more than anything. Even depressed, at times.

But now—here, he doesn’t feel empty. How can he? With the bass from the loudspeakers beating within him like a second soul, he feels more complete than he ever has. It doesn’t matter how the stage lights occasionally hit his eyes. How bad his feet hurt. How many people are surrounding him. Because they’re here, experiencing the same thing as he and Dean. The music is _part_ of them.

The next song he does recognize. “Yellow-Eyed Girl” is one of Colt Killer’s more well-known songs, so of course everyone is trying to sing over the speakers, including Dean.

Cas watches him with a fond smile. It’s not Dean in a floral blue tuxedo and bowtie, posing with that winning, half-toothy grin for family-friendly photos with his then-girlfriend Robin before prom. It’s not Dean in a strictly black tuxedo and black and white polka undershirt, camera ready as he smiles with all his teeth—and even some freckles—for his parents’ vow renewal.

It’s Dean, in a raggedy red flannel and jeans and an extended neck and protruding veins and even a little spit. It’s Dean not caring how he looks—not needing to impress anyone except himself for retaining the lyrics after all these years.

“Okay now, we’re gonna take it down a notch,” the lead singer says over the tail-end of the fifth roar of applause. “I want all of you to throw an arm around your neighbor. It’s gonna be weird for a moment, but trust me. And if everyone participates, we can all be weird together. Now… I’m gonna start off the song. When I start, you sway with your arm around your neighbor. Got it? Here we go… _Another night in Manning, Elkins started planning, dreaming of his one true love…”_

As if in a trance, Dean snaps his head back to look at Cas. With equally wide-eyes, Cas manages to shrug. Of course, the spotlights aren’t on the audience anymore, so he has to step closer to say: “Why not? We’d be weird to be the only ones not to.”

Dean pulls back his ear to nod, but not without some hesitance. “Okay. I’m taller than you so I’ll be the big spoon.”

“By _two inches.”_

“Two inches goes a long... way.” Dean swallows thickly as he takes in how close they’re talking. Their noses are brushing together and they’re practically sharing the same breath.

Obliging, Cas lets Dean’s left arm drape over his shoulders—no, not drape. Drape is too loose of a verb. Dean’s much tenser. The back of his left arm feels like memory foam without the memory: Just one firm bar against the back of his neck.

It’s not until Cas initiates the swaying that Dean starts to relax a bit. He doesn’t even realize he’s resting his head on Dean’s shoulder until Dean snaps his head. Cas does the same, but when he looks up, he finds only love in Dean’s eyes that infectiously reaches his lips. It’s overflowing onto Cas’s forehead, his eyes, his nose, and his mouth.

 _“When she lit his heart aflame, she knew she’d stuck her claim… but Elkins lit a cigarette with her fire…_ Oh whoa, whoa! Ladies and gentleman, speaking of fire!”

Just like that, the music stops. The people stop. It’s so quiet now; you can almost hear the smack of their joined lips as they pull away.

“Come here, guys! Come up with us!” the singer encourages.

Cas turns to Dean who, just like him, bursts out laughing. “I guess it is your lucky night.”

 

 

That night, as they head out to the car and hear the beginning of another slow song that’s an obvious favorite of Dean’s, they decide the middle of the darkened road leading home is the perfect place for one last slow dance.

 

_Yeah, I always took so right_

_Take your tunes outside_

_Like you're walking in a magazine_

_Well you hold my hand, say you are my man_

_And you only have eyes for me_

_~ “Remember That Night”, Grouplove_

 


End file.
